


More Alike

by Rose Argent (roseargent)



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa), Vassalord
Genre: Blood Drinking, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseargent/pseuds/Rose%20Argent
Summary: Desperate for another way to extend Rai's life, Frankenstein enlists Johnny Rayflo's reluctant help.





	More Alike

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



> The thought of merging these two very different vampire mythologies into one was really exciting! 
> 
> Timelines are post-series for Vassalord, and during the brief interlude between the defense of Lukedonia and the next series of fights for Noblesse. 
> 
> I didn't make any mention of Rayflo's real name--Charley still thinks of him as Master, and as Rayflo. 
> 
> I hope you like what I came up with, and enjoy the fic!

If Charley had been dreaming, any memory of it was swept away by his sudden awakening, his sense of the sun bright in his mind; Master was awake but pretending not to be in the bed beside him, and the bedroom window was uncovered and open. His heart seized in panic and Charley instinctively rolled to cover Rayflo, only belatedly remembering that he was, if anything, _less_ sun-proof than his Master these days. The last curve of the Sacramento sun was just sinking below the horizon, sunset recently enough gone to have woken him, the twilight not actually bright enough to burn. 

"Go away, Frankenstein." Rayflo's annoyed grumble drew Charley's attention to the person standing just inside the threshold. Uninvited, but inside their home, so he couldn't be a vampire, yet power rolled off him like a fog. As the sun-induced panic retreated, Charley started to process what his Master had called the intruder. 

_Seriously?_

Making a disgusted noise, Rayflo gently pushed Charley aside and sat up in bed, the sheet sliding down to his waist. He hadn't bothered summoning any clothes, though Charley was awake enough now to notice that _he_ had, even half asleep. 

_Threat? Or not a threat?_ Rayflo would act the same either way, but Charley found his hands itching for a sword or, better yet, some of his more aggressive cybernetic parts. 

Frankenstein ( _No, but, really?_ ) leaned against the wall, grinning an unhinged sort of grin, and Charley firmly decided on _threat_. 

Rayflo made another noise and go out of bed, clothes forming on his body as he moved. Without any kind of urgency, Master went over to the desk chair, sat down, and lit up a cigarette. Simmering with questions, Charley followed Rayflo's lead for now, not willing to start a confrontation that might still be avoidable. He stood beside the chair, one hand on the back of it, one lightly resting on the desk behind him. There weren't enough weapons hidden in their room. There needed to be more weapons. He'd work on that as soon as this was over. 

"What do you want, Frankenstein? You're a long way from Korea, and without your Master."

No longer grinning, Frankenstein looked away and shifted his weight just enough that the shadows concealed his expression. "Been keeping tabs on us, Demonspawn?"

"You've been a little hard to miss. You've kept it out of the news, but word gets around when you level buildings on a regular basis. He's been burning power like it's free."

Charley's grip on the back of the chair tightened. Master was keeping things from him again, because this was the first he was hearing about goings on in Korea.

The sense of power from Frankenstein hadn't faded, exactly, but it felt less aggressive now. He was quiet for a moment and then he shrugged and gave a little sigh. "I've reached the limit of what I can do for him with what I have. Your rate of regeneration is as fast as a werewolf's, and could be the key I need."

The cigarette dropped out of Rayflo's open mouth, and he scrambled to pick it back up before it burned him. "You can't seriously expect me to just hand over a sample of my blood."

Charley's grip on the chair threatened to break it, and he forced his fingers to unclench. But Frankenstein heard the creak and looked over at them again, that grin back on his face. "Your puppy doesn't like that idea."

"He doesn't like to share." 

"I could take it by force." Frankenstein stepped away from the wall, energy rising around him. 

He couldn't see Rayflo's face from where he stood, but Charley heard a rare anger in his voice as he replied, "Could you? Are you sure about that?"

The tension was thick, neither party backing down, Charley ready to jump in at the slightest opening, when Rayflo sighed and turned his head to look up at Charley briefly. His expression was a mix of emotions, but mostly it was apologetic; Charley knew that expression all too well--his Master was going to do something Charley was going to hate. "How long does he have?"

The aggression ran out of Frankenstein like he'd sprung a leak, and Charley saw an agonised look flash across his face before he turned his back to them. The lack of response seemed to be all the answer Rayflo needed. "We need to discuss this. Come back tomorrow night. Try using the _door_."

And then Frankenstein was gone, like he'd never been there.

Charley spun the desk chair to face him, and scowled down at Rayflo. "Explain."

Rayflo ground his cigarette out in the ashtray and rubbed his face. "I don't even know where to _start_."

"Start with how you've been monitoring some situation in Korea and not mentioning it to me."

"It's a little more complicated than that." Rayflo held up a hand when Charley opened his mouth to protest. "I'm not dodging the question. I just have to go back a lot farther than that for it to make any sense."

And bit by bit, his Master explained about the other kind of vampire, about Lukedonia and the Noblesse, about werewolves and the Union and the way a thousand years of resentment and plotting were coming to a head now that the Noblesse had awakened. 

"But... how can the Church not know any of this?" Charley had never heard even a hint of this when he'd worked for the Vatican. 

"Of course they know." Rayflo frowned and rubbed his face again. "Officially, Lukedonia's out of their jurisdiction. They have no power over the Nobles or the werewolves, is the truth of it. On their end of things, Lukedonia just has no interest in the Church. Their relationship with demons is... complicated."

Charley was going to get very tired of the word 'complicated' very fast. 

"All vampires who are made instead of born are 'mutants' by their definition. But in practical terms, their 'mutants' are usually uncontrollable and very easy to spot. Short of going up to a Noble and _telling_ them you're a vampire, they're not going to notice our kind. Or they'll pretend not to. They're pretty rigid, and we don't fit in their little hierarchy."

"And... Frankenstein?" It still felt ridiculous to say that name like it referred to an actual living person. 

"He's human. Probably. Much, much older than the book. Much more successful in his experiments, obviously. We've run into each other a few times."

"You're going to give him your blood." Charley didn't pretend it was a question.

Rayflo winced, and wouldn't look at him. "The Noblesse is... we've never met, I don't know what kind of person he is. But part of his job is to keep the rest of them in line, and there's no replacement for him that I've heard of."

Looking out the still-open balcony doors, Rayflo added, "And I'm not sure I want to find out what happens if Frankenstein loses his Master."

Admittedly, Charley didn't like the sound of that, either. Whether he liked it more or less than the idea of his Master sharing his blood with someone else, he hadn't decided yet. " _Can_ your blood even help him? You said they're a totally different species."

"Mostly they are. But they can share power through blood; we're closer in that sense than they are to werewolves." Charley got the feeling there was more, that Rayflo was holding something back, but his head already swam with new information so he let it go. For now.

Charley sank to his knees and rested his head on Rayflo's thigh. "I don't like it." He could feel the blood pulsing through his Master's veins, could smell it, could taste the memory of it, and his fangs lengthened. _His_. No one else's. 

But if Frankenstein's Master died and he blamed Rayflo for refusing to help, Rayflo could die. A lot of innocent bystanders could die, even if they did win.

And Rayflo would hate himself more than he already did. 

"Chris." His Master combed his fingers through his hair, gently, and Charley leaned into the touch. 

"You'll need your strength." Charley rose, and climbed into the chair to straddle his Master's legs. Tilting his head, Charley ran his own fingers down the line of his throat. "Drink your fill."

Master's voice was rough, this time, as he said, "Chris." His hand cupped the back of Charley's neck and pulled him closer. He kissed Charley's neck, so lightly, the faintest brush of his lips, again and again, until Charley squirmed and panted and began to wonder if he would ever bite. 

Then it came, the sharp pain of fangs breaking his skin, the pressure of Master's mouth, the rush of blood leaving his body. A small, animal part of Charley's brain screamed _no_ , this was wrong, this was _danger_ , but it was quickly drowned out by the pleasure pulsing through his body. His back arched and he rocked against his Master, dimly noticing that their clothes had disappeared. Time slowed to a crawl, and yet the moment still couldn't last long enough; Charley tangled his hands in his Master's hair, trying to hold him in place. 

But his Master's control was perfect, he knew to the drop how much he could take. The very instant Charley started to feel dizzy with something other than pleasure, it all stopped. Master kissed his neck again, licking away a last drop of blood with that forked tongue, and Charley shuddered.

They made it to the bed, somehow. Charley held Master down and kissed him in every spot he'd ever bitten, sucking hard enough to draw blood to the surface of his skin. The bruises faded as fast as he made them and the smell of Master's blood had Charley's head spinning, but he didn't bite. He _wanted_ to, wanted to so badly that he had to close his lips over his fangs to keep from nicking that pale, lovely skin. 

Instead, he slipped a hand down between Master's thighs, stroking and teasing until Master started to make those same needy little noises he did when Charley fed. 

His mouth was on Master's neck before Charley even realised what he was doing, and it took everything he had to pull away without biting. 

Master took advantage of Charley's hesitation, rolling them over so that Charley was on his back and Master was straddling his thighs. Master leaned back, and Charley swallowed a moan. He pinned Charley to the bed with one hand, effortlessly, and Charley wondered--not for the first time--how he had never understood how _strong_ his Master was, how strong he _should_ have been if he hadn't been half starved.

It was different, making love without exchanging blood. The heat was no less, but Charley found himself more _aware_ of every little movement of Master's hips, and all the sensations that usually blurred into the rush of feeding were sharper, more overwhelming. He came faster than he had since the very first time, and covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. 

Rayflo laughed, but warmly, gently. Charley felt Rayflo kiss the backs of his hands, and he reluctantly moved them so that he could look up at his Master. Rayflo was smiling, not a trace of a smirk in the expression, and he leaned in to kiss Charley on the lips. Charley kissed him back, and found that his fangs had retracted without his noticing, as if his hunger had been satisfied.

\-- 

When Frankenstein returned the next night, Charley only half listened to the negotiations. He was resigned to the idea that this was going to happen, but couldn't quite bring himself to actively participate in _making_ it happen. The sticking point was that Rayflo was not willing to let Frankenstein just run off with a sample of his blood, to run experiments on as he pleased, and Charley couldn't really blame him, considering he already had a bunch of clones he didn't ask for running around. 

Charley briefly considered telling Frankenstein to go bother one of the clones instead, which was probably unfair. Letting Frankenstein know the clones even existed was also probably a terrible idea, so he kept it to himself. 

Somehow, Frankenstein and Rayflo decided that going to his lab in person was the better idea, at which point Charley started regretting not involving himself in the negotiations. 

Plane travel was a lot less pleasant now that he needed to follow the rules his cybernetic parts had once let him ignore. Before he could come up with a cogent argument for why this was a terrible idea (there were so _many_ , he couldn't choose one in time), two coffins worth of native soil had been loaded into the cargo hold of Frankenstein's private jet and they were in the air. Charley itched from the dirt he'd had to rub into his skin (better than riding the whole way inside the coffin), and he was stuck in a metal tube thousands of feet in the air with his bored Master and _Frankenstein_. 

Every time Rayflo leaned over and tried to slip a hand down Charley's pants or his tongue down Charley's throat, Frankenstein got visibly more annoyed. Every time Frankenstein twitched, Rayflo got visibly more amused and the cycle repeated. For _twelve hours_. By the time the plane landed the dark energy radiating from Frankenstein was oppressive, and Charley was exhausted.

Rayflo stopped trolling Frankenstein as they raced the dawn back to the lab, which also turned out to be Frankenstein's--and the Noblesse's-- _home_. That made it feel less like a trap and more like an act of desperation on Frankenstein's part. It wasn't enough for Charley to relax, exactly, but he felt less like he was on a hair trigger.

Frankenstein entered first, leaving Rayflo, Charley, the coffins, and the rest of their luggage to wait outside. Charley could feel the sunrise in his bones, but they had a little time yet. Frakenstein probably wouldn't waste his time dragging them all the way to Korea if he was just going to leave them outside to burn. Probably. 

In the moments the door was open, Charley heard voices raised in welcome, and in that mix of anger and relief that could only come from people who cared about you. It surprised him. It surprised Master, too, and his expression softened a little. Which did not stop him from taking advantage of their time alone to lean on Charley and start nuzzling his neck. 

"Stop that." But even Charley couldn't take his own admonishments seriously, after twelve hours of the same song and dance. 

"We should stay a couple days. I haven't been to Korea before."

Remembering Rayflo's ridiculous behaviour in Beijing, Charley was equal parts tempted to flatly refuse, and to encourage the idea. "Maybe. In a _hotel_." It might be difficult to book a flight home on a commercial airline if they outstayed their limited welcome.

... And some time alone in a fancy suite _would_ be nice. The Sacramento apartment was _home_ , in a way Rayflo's mansions never had been, but a little luxury once in a while wouldn't hurt. 

A few minutes passed before the door opened again, and Frankenstein invited them inside. After an awkward moment while they wrangled the coffins through the door, they followed him into the living room. The table was strewn with half-empty plates and mugs, evidence that more than one person had been sitting there, waiting for Frankenstein to come home. 

Only one person was left in the room now. The Noblesse sat with his back to them, and even though he was only quietly sitting there drinking tea, Charley could feel the disapproval radiating off him in waves. Disapproval, and _power_. Stronger even than Frankenstein's, but with an entirely different quality. He actually _felt_ noble, in a way Charley hadn't been at all prepared for. At the same time that power was... brittle, somehow, on the verge of collapsing under its own weight.

"Noblesse." Rayflo _sounded_ unfazed, but all his teasing manner was gone now. 

The Noblesse inclined his head slightly, still not turning to face them, and put his tea cup down with a sigh. 

The sigh, quiet as it was, made Frankenstein flinch a little. But he straightened his shoulders stubbornly after just a moment. "The lab is this way."

'This way' turned out to be several floors underground, giving Charley unpleasant flashbacks to Alford Wayne's facility. Except that, for some reason, there was a round table with a patio umbrella sitting in the middle of the lab. It was bizarrely out of place, and Frankenstein's face froze for a moment when he saw it, but at least it gave them somewhere to sit other than on the examination tables. 

Frankenstein fetched another cup of tea for the Noblesse before doing anything else. That Rayflo didn't make any rude comments told Charley a great deal about how off-balance his Master was feeling. "Let's get this over with." 

It wasn't as easy as that. Frankenstein wanted to run tests first, to make sure there wouldn't be any surprise incompatibilities between the Noblesse's blood and Rayflo's. Whatever he found, it had him frowning down at his lab equipment like it had offended him. 

"More similar than you expected?" Rayflo couldn't quite manage his usual indolent slouch in what was essentially patio furniture, but he still managed to look unconcerned, and entirely unsurprised.

"... You expected this?" Frankenstein was watching Rayflo with suspicion, now, and even the Noblesse had turned his full attention on Charley's Master. 

Rayflo shrugged, but his dark eyes were haunted. "I knew it was a possibility. I heard a story, once upon a time, from a generally... unreliable source. How much of it is actually true is anyone's guess."

Charley stiffened. This was the thing Rayflo had been holding back, and he wondered what exactly Belial had told Rayflo about his blood, and the Noblesse. He knew why his Master hadn't shared the story, now, with Charley or anyone else--the demon only told the truth when it could be used to hurt, and even then it could be liberally mixed with lies. But knowing why didn't make it hurt any less; would there always be secrets between them, no matter how hard Rayflo tried to break the habits of centuries?

When Rayflo offered no further information, Frankenstein's expression darkened further. But before he could do anything regrettable, the Noblesse spoke at last. "The first Noblesse was a good man in a desperate situation. What he did for power is a stain that we do not discuss."

Though he obviously wanted to know more, Frankenstein plainly couldn't, or wouldn't, gainsay such a flat statement from his Master. "Then a transfer of power _will_ work."

With obvious reluctance, the Noblesse inclined his head in assent. "A stopgap. But a viable one."

Rayflo rolled up one sleeve, baring his wrist. "A one-time stopgap. Try not to waste it." He met the Noblesse's eyes, and received another nod in return. The cold, hard knot in Charley's belly unwound itself, at that; Frankenstein might be willing to try to keep Rayflo against his will, but if the Noblesse himself refused to cooperate then there would be no point. 

The Noblesse took Rayflo's hand, turning it palm up to expose Rayflo's wrist, and bent his head. That silky black hair fell forward, shielding the Noblesse's face from view as he bit into Rayflo's wrist. Rayflo looked away, a tightness around his eyes, and Charley found himself at his Master's side without remembering how he got there. He knelt beside Rayflo's chair, clutching his Master's free hand, distress drowning out his jealousy. This was _hurting_ Rayflo; the Noblesse didn't feed on blood as a matter of course, didn't mix blood and sex and pleasure and so it _hurt_ , and because Rayflo said nothing and neither the Noblesse or Frankenstein knew that anything was wrong. 

He wouldn't cry in front of these strangers, but his Master's pain was like a knife in Charley's heart.

Charley felt it when Rayflo started to sag, and caught him as he slid sideways from his chair. The fall pulled Rayflo's wrist out of the Noblesse's grasp, skin tearing as the Noblesse was slow to withdraw his teeth, and the smell of Rayflo's blood hit Charley like a truck. Cradling his Master, Charley licked at the holes in his wrist until the ragged, uneven marks started to close and the blood flow stopped. The healing was too slow--the Noblesse had taken as much as Charley ever had, in the bad old days.

He shot a glare at the Noblesse, the other's power forgotten in Charley's pique. The Noblesse at least had the decency to look embarrassed. 

"He needs to rest." 

With obvious reluctance, Frankenstein tore his attention away from his Master for long enough to guide Charley to a guest room.

Locking the door behind Frankenstein--who must surely have a key, but it still made Charley feel better to have a locked door between his Master and anyone else--Charley carefully laid Rayflo in his coffin and settled on the floor beside it. The exhaustion of the last twenty four hours hit Charley all at once, then, and he fell asleep half-sprawled over his Master's coffin. 

\--

When Charley woke he was in the bed, alone. 

Master was standing by the windows, looking out at the night and smoking a cigarette. He was completely naked, and Charley caught himself staring blankly at the pale curve of his... back... his fangs lengthening, his mouth watering at the sight. 

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty."

He could _hear_ Rayflo smirking at him. Scowling, Charley tore his gaze away, only to have it fall on the pile of empty blood bags on the table. Shoulders stiffening, Charley opened his mouth to protest, but Rayflo spoke first. "Don't be like that, Cherry. I drained you, and the Noblesse drained me. One of us had to top up sooner or later."

The 'and it obviously wasn't going to be you' went unsaid, but understood. Master wasn't _wrong_ , exactly, and even Charley was hard pressed to claim that Rayflo had been drinking cold blood out of a bag for _fun_ , but he still didn't like the idea. He especially didn't like the part where someone came into the room to deliver the blood while he was sleeping, and he didn't wake. That was embarrassing, and dangerous; he couldn't afford to trust these people. "It's Charley," he muttered out of long habit.

Rayflo came back into his field of vision, stubbing his cigarette out in an ash tray on the table. His eyes were dark, and his smile sent a shiver down Charley's spine. "I wonder how I can make it up to you."

This had never been a fair fight. It was like trying to resist temptation incarnate. Charley held out a hand, and Rayflo closed the distance between them to take it.

Yanking his Master onto the bed with him, Charley sank his teeth into Master's collarbone, drawing only a trickle of blood. He withdrew his fangs to lick at the blood, then bit again, this time into the muscle of Master's chest, just above the nipple. No big veins, not yet; he was going to savour this. 

With each bite a little of Master's blood filled his mouth, and Master shuddered against him. "Still the worst tease."

It took no effort at all to push Master down onto the bed, and Charley began to work his slow way down Master's body. "It's your punishment."

Master's answering chuckle was low and thick with desire, turning into a gasp as Charley bit into the meat of his thigh. He felt Master's fingers tangle in his hair, tugging a little, but Charley ignored the pull and the tempting veins of Master's inner thighs. 

When Charley bit into the vein between Master's toes, Master let go of his hair to clutch at the bedsheets instead. No more smart comments, Master was only making little breathy noises that turned into a whimper as Charley started working his way back up the other leg. 

Again, Charley bypassed all those big, throbbing, blood-filled veins, taking only a little bit at a time. "Chris... Come on, not there..."

Charley smiled against Master's shoulder, giving the bite there a little lick, enjoying the shiver that ran through Master's body. He kissed along Master's jaw, and Master wrapped his shaking arms around him. 

He couldn't wait any longer. Charley bit into Master's throat, blood filling his mouth in a rush now. He swallowed, and it felt like it burned all the way down, warmth spreading out from his belly; Charley's heart sped and he swallowed again. Master clung to him now, back arching up off the bed. 

Oh, how Charley wanted to drain Master dry, drink down every last drop of him. But he let himself take only one more mouthful of blood, pulling his fangs out and licking at the wounds as they rapidly began to close. The marks he'd left earlier were already gone, and Charley felt a selfish pang of regret--he loved to see his Master covered in the evidence of his feeding, but he could no longer bear leaving Master too drained to regenerate.

Master's eyes were closed but he wasn't asleep--when Charley shifted to lie against his side, Master turned slightly to face him, kissing the hollow of his throat tenderly.

The bedsheets were covered in little blood stains, again. Minea was always complaining about...

Charley shoved Master aside and sat bolt upright, ignoring Master's annoyed grunt. Minea wouldn't be cleaning these sheets. They weren't at home. They were in _Frankenstein's_ home. They'd just gotten blood all over _Frankenstein's_ sheets. 

Rayflo chuckled, looking up at Charley now through half-lidded eyes. The bastard hadn't forgotten for a second where they were. 

Muttering, Charley rolled out of bed. He'd formed himself a set of clothes by the time he reached the bedroom door. Pausing at the threshold, he glared back at Rayflo, who was still lounging in the bed, looking satisfied, a little smug, and not the least bit inclined to get up. This left Charley in a bit of a bind--he was extremely reluctant to leave his Master's side in an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous place, but _someone_ needed to check in with their hosts. "At least _try_ to stay out of trouble."

In the living room Charley noticed, once again, that there were signs that several people had been here not that long ago. He wondered who the other residents were, that Frankenstein was so carefully keeping them from running into Charley and Rayflo. Which party was Frankenstein worried would cause trouble?

The Noblesse was sitting calmly, drinking tea, as if nothing had happened. Frankenstein, meanwhile, was obviously fuming, his eye twitching a little as he looked up at Charley. "The sun has been down for _hours_."

Remembering the bloody sheets, Charley flushed and looked away. He _felt_ Frankenstein's energy flare again, and when Charley looked back at him in alarm he caught the Noblesse giving Frankenstein a mild look that somehow settled that energy right back down. The Noblesse caught his gaze and lifted one shoulder in an elegant sort of half shrug. 'Sorry about him', maybe? 

Frankenstein cleared his throat. "The jet can be ready to go in an hour." 

"Master wants to stay in a hotel for a few nights. He's never been to Korea before," Charley explained apologetically. He saw that eye twitch again, but Frankenstein kept his aura under better control this time. "I'll keep him out of trouble."

Though Frankenstein's doubt was more obvious, Charley got the impression that the Noblesse didn't really believe that, either. Charley couldn't really blame them. But, to his surprise, Frankenstein's only reply was, "There are... difficult people around in this city, lately. It's not what I'd call safe."

Charley shrugged stiffly. He wasn't easy about the idea either, but if Master wanted to play tourist then Charley would have to literally tie him up and drag him back home to stop him. Putting aside the question of whether he _could_ do that with Master at essentially full strength, Charley also knew that would likely draw more attention than a few nights of innocent touring. "None of your factions have bothered much with our kind before, as I understand it. We can only hope that won't change in the next few days." 

There was an uncomfortable silence (uncomfortable for Charley and Frankenstein, at least--whether the Noblesse was uncomfortable was a complete mystery to him), but eventually Frankenstein sighed and drew a business card from his pocket. "Call this number when you want to go home. It's the least I can do."

The Noblesse took a quiet sip of his tea, and Frankenstein blanched. He added, only a little reluctantly, "We _are_ grateful for your Master's help."

Charley had _no_ idea how those two communicated, but it was kind of impressive.

But just to be clear....

"If you come near him again I'll run you through." 

Frankenstein answered, with that murderous smile of his, "I'm sure you'd try."

The Noblesse cleared his throat, and gestured with his empty tea cup; Frankenstein's psychotic smile vanished and he rushed to get his Master more tea. 

Taking the opportunity to excuse himself, Charley collected Rayflo and their belongings. They said their farewells, and Charley braced himself for the next trial--ferrying his Master around Seoul, playing tourist.

\--

Epilogue

Burning the guest room sheets made Frankenstein feel a little better.

Seeing his Master looking less pale and weak make him feel a _lot_ better. Anything was worth it, for that. Even if his Master was a little angry at him for bringing the Demonspawn into their home. 

Kneeling beside his Master's chair, Frankenstein looked up into his Master's face, as if by looking closely enough he could measure just how much longer the Demonspawn had bought them. "You're looking stronger." 

For a painfully long moment there was no response, but then his Master put down his teacup with a delicate _clink_ , and leaned in to kiss Frankenstein on the lips. When his Master pulled away, Frankenstein closed his eyes and swayed a little where he knelt, weak with relief. He was forgiven, and his Master had more time. 

Frankenstein didn't know how long this respite would last, but he would brand every precious moment of it into his memory. 

-fin-


End file.
